Then she began to question Elithe’s knowledge of the Scriptures, finding that she neither knew how old Adam was when he died, nor how old he was when Seth was born. Ages were Miss Hansford’s specialty, and she could give you the birthdays at once of most of the noted people in the Bible and the date of their death. “I suppose you know your catechism from A to izzard,” she suggested to Elithe, who replied, “No, I don’t. I never could manage the long answer about my duty to God and my neighbor. Heathenish, I know, and if you say so I’ll learn them at once. Any way, I’ll begin the three chapters in the Bible to-day, and will soon catch up with the old fellows’ ages.” Every morning after that Elithe spent an hour or so in her room poring over the Bible until she knew a good deal about Adam and Seth and many more of the patriarchs. If she had a longing for the flesh-pots as represented by the Rink and Casino and the dances at the hotel, she did not show it. But the fun was in her just the same, and she never heard the band in the distance that she did not keep time to it with her hands or her feet, and more than one waltz the little kitchen saw when she was alone, with no one to criticise. She had not yet joined the bathers on the beach, although urged to do so by Paul, who promised to teach her to swim and to float and to help her in every way, if he knew when she was to be there. “I am going to-morrow,” she said to him one day when he called. “All right. I’ll find you, if I don’t go blue fishing. Some of us fellows are talking of it,” he answered, as he bade her good afternoon and started across the fields in the direction of the Percy cottage. When he was gone Elithe brought out her bathing suit and tried it on for her aunt’s inspection. “That’s decent,” Miss Hansford said, “and doesn’t show your arms and legs as some of ’em do,—Clarice Percy’s, for instance. I declare to goodness it makes me blush when I see her and some of ’em like her, with nothing on but a little skirt, you may say!” Elithe had been down to the beach and seen the little skirts and thought them and their wearers immodest. Hers, however, was right. It came some ways below her knees, and if the sleeves were rather short it did not matter so much. Her arms were very pretty and she knew it, and her aunt knew it and thought with a good deal of satisfaction that Clarice couldn’t beat them. That night Elithe dreamed she was in the surf with Paul and Mr. Pennington, both contending for her and holding her under the water till she woke to find a soft shower falling outside and the rain beating upon her face from the open window. CHAPTER XVIII. ELITHE AND CLARICE.